


Nothing But The Truth

by ZombieBabs



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBabs/pseuds/ZombieBabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dr. Strand hears about his wife's possible reappearance, Alex has to convince him not to disappear again. She finally gets some answers of her own.</p><p>*Edited 7.21.17</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But The Truth

Alex plays back the recording of her conversation with Tina Stephenson.

She's not sure what reaction she expects from the man sitting across from her. His usual skepticism? Shock, perhaps?

What she doesn't expect is for Strand to push himself away from her desk, the chair scraping against worn carpeting. He stands and without a word, leaves Alex's office.

It takes a moment for Alex to process, but then her brain kicks back in and Alex rushes after him.

“Dr. Strand! Dr. Strand, where are you going?”

Alex nearly has to run to keep up with his long strides. He's heading toward the lobby of the Pacific Northwest Stories studios.

“To find my wife.”

Alex grabs his arm, pulling him to a rough stop before he can charge through the exit. “What, you’re just going to disappear again? You don’t even know where to look.”

Strand glares. He's always been tall, but he towers over her now, his entire body taught with barely restrained emotion. “I know where to start.”

Alex crosses her arms in front of her. She refuses to be intimidated. “Like you knew the last time?” 

Strand's eyes freeze over behind his glasses. He stares her down hard, behind layers of ice and glass. “You don’t know _anything_ about me or my wife.”

He's right. She doesn't know much about him. And she knows next to nothing about Coralee. But not for lack of trying.

“Richard, please," she says. "You can’t even be sure it was your wife.”

“She was identified from a photo—”

“A photo how many years old?” 

A flash of uncertainty crosses his features before they settle back into a scowl. “Your point?”

“Take a second and think about this before you go running off.”

Shaking his head, Strand turns and starts again for the door. “I don’t have a second, Alex.”

Alex stares at his back, feeling helpless as she watches him go. She has this terrible feeling if she lets him leave the building, all hell will break loose. 

“What would you tell me if I were in your situation?” She calls at his back, trying not to betray just how desperate she is to make him stay.

Strand pauses, hand still outstretched toward the handle. Alex can’t see his expression, but she takes his hesitation as a good sign. “Dr. Strand?”

“Yes?” 

“What would you tell me to do?”

He sighs and lets his hand fall to his side. 

“I would tell you to wait,” he says. All trace of anger is gone from his voice, replaced by quiet resignation. 

“You would,” Alex says. 

He closes his eyes, takes an unsteady step backwards, and lets the wall behind him take his weight. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. If--if Coralee is alive--” Strand cuts himself off and curses. Like a puppet with its strings severed, he slides down the wall to sit on the floor.

He looks miserable. She's never seen him look so dejected. Not even when he told her the particulars of his wife's disappearance.

After a moment of frantic indecision, Alex gives in and goes to sit beside him. “Are you alright?” 

An ironic smile curls at his lips. “No.”

“I’m not saying we stop the investigation entirely. If she’s alive, if she's out there, we’ll find her.”

“I know,” he says. He sighs and scrubs at the stubble on his chin.

“So tell me. What happened?”

Strand frowns. “I’m not sure what you want to hear.”

“It’s not about what I _want_ to hear. Talk to me. Tell me the truth.”

He’s quiet for a long time. He lets his eyes fall closed and his head thud back against the wall. When he does start speaking, his voice is so soft Alex has to lean close in order to hear him. “I had nothing to do with my wife’s disappearance. Not directly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither did I. Not until this moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Coralee didn’t love me.” 

Alex shakes her head. She doesn't believe that for a second. “She was your wife. Of course she loved you.”

Strand’s hands ball into fists and he swallows before speaking. His voice is a near whisper, raw with emotion. “If she did...How could she do this to me?”

Alex takes one of his hands and brings it into her lap. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles until they relax and his palm opens enough for her to lace her fingers in between his. When she looks up, he’s looking at her for the first time in minutes.

Behind his glasses, his eyes are red. Over-bright.

“I was so afraid,” Strand continues. He drops his gaze to their intertwined fingers. “I couldn’t find her. I looked everywhere I could think of--with friends, colleagues, family. She was _gone_. Without a trace.

He takes a deep breath. An attempt to pull himself back together. "They put out the all-points bulletin, but there was no real search. Not when they all thought I--that I'd murdered Coralee.”

Alex squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“They turned their attention to the highway serial killer,” he continues. “All I could think--it was my fault for being so angry, for not going after her. If I followed her...

He swallows. "I’ve thought, all of these years, her body was left in a shallow grave. That she suffered before she was killed. That it was my fault she was dead.”

He cuts himself off with a choked sound and doesn't say anything for several minutes. He stares down at their joined hands like he'll fall apart if he so much as blinks. 

“What about the psychic?” Alex almost hates herself for pushing, but she has to know. She has to know everything.

“The assault?”

“You settled out of court, but we weren't able to find out what really happened."

“I pushed her.” Strand refuses to meet her eyes.

“Why?”

“I panicked--lashed out. She was so close, yelling in my face, saying she would find out what I did to Coralee. She said she could feel how, how _evil_ I must be for--“ His eyes squeeze shut and he takes a ragged breath, as if reliving the moment. “My life, everything, was crashing down around me and I just—snapped. I pushed her. She fell back and landed wrong, broke her wrist.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt her.” Alex doesn’t mean it as a question, but Strand jerks as if she’s struck him.

He shakes his head and his eyes, when he looks at her, are wet. All of the previous ice has finally melted, showing Alex the devastated man beneath. 

Alex squeezes his hand.

Strand sags back against the wall. He closes his eyes.

“I have to ask,” Alex says after a moment, a little hesitant.

Strand breathes out a small laugh, but nods. “Of course.”

“ _If_ Coralee is still alive--you think she left you, that she put you through everything you went through, because she didn’t love you?”

He doesn’t answer, but Alex knows this is the logical conclusion that he must have come to. 

“We’ll find her,” she says, squeezing his hand once more.

“What if she doesn’t want to be found?” His free hand comes up to brush through his hair. It settles over his eyes, blocking out the light from the hallway. “I have a headache.”

“One thing at a time." Alex stands. She holds out a hand to help Strand up from the floor. "Come on. I have some painkillers in my office. I’ll make tea.”

His suit jacket is rumpled. Patches of dirt dust his slacks. His shoes are scuffed. It’s the most out of sorts Alex has ever seen him.

She tucks his hand into her elbow and lets him lean into her warmth as they make their way back to her office. Curious studio staff scurry back into their respective offices, too late to avoid being noticed. Strand does his best to ignore their attention, but Alex can tell he's bothered there might be witnesses to his public breakdown.

She sits him down in the big comfy chair in the corner in the corner of her office and goes to the break room to make tea.

When she comes back, steaming mug in hand, she finds Strand slumped in the chair. His eyes are closed and his breathing even. A frown pulls at his mouth, his brows drawn together. Even in sleep, he doesn't look content.

"'M sorry," he murmurs, curling further into the chair.

"I am, too," Alex says.

She still has the feeling something terrible is coming their way, but it's lessened somehow, knowing Strand is still with her.

Alex sits at her desk and sips at the mug of tea. She lets him sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> *Edited 7.21.17


End file.
